Free to Fly
by Mahina
Summary: Luke is nine and a slave in Jabba's palace when Darth Vader returns to fulfill an old promise. L/V list challenge.


The light was dim and dusty. The air was heavy and bit stale, like no one had come this way in a long time. Luke liked that. It meant the servo-motor wasn't likely to be missed. The boy exhaled gently as carefully pried the part from a towering pile of scrap and wreckage. A few empty oil cans fell of the top of the stack. Luke froze at the ruckus, but no one came.

"Hooo!" Luke said, hefting his prize in his small, grubby hands. "Ingrasha isa! Hi stoopa machusa junz yuna puna servo?"

The casing had some stress fractures, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with the motor. Luke could tell just by holding it. Bib Fortuna was a wasteful fool. A first-class motor like this would go for 150 credits new, easy.

But then…the Great Jabba the Hutt probably didn't care about 150 credits. That many credits was a lot for a slave like Luke. It was pocket change for a crime lord that controlled half a planet. Either way it wasn't Luke's problem. Luke just needed to tuck the motor away in his frock and…

"Kapa tonka!" Cheeslo said. The rodian's voice cut across the silence of the room. Stiffening, Luke slowly turned around. He hoped his overseer wouldn't notice the bulge wrapped up in his ragged shirt.

"Kappa tonka, Luka." Cheeslo calmly repeated. Luke sighed and slowly raised his hands in the air. The servo-motor he was clutching unfurled from his shirt and clattered to the ground. Luke winced.

"Bona nai kachu bukee." Cheeslo said. You're in trouble boy. "Keel-ee calleya ku kah. Mi xp-chuze chusa kee nano zero."

Luke _had_ promised he wasn't going to steal scrap anymore. But Luke had checked out the burnt-out R5 astromech that displeased Jabba last week, and Luke knew he could fix it. He wanted to customize it from scratch. He had so many ideas…and it wasn't like Jawas didn't sneak in and pick this stuff over sometimes!

Though Luke admitted that _they_ paid.

"Choy che chopa?" Luke bartered hesitently. "Mi kunta hujoo Halapu che wuta. Me djeza ni, pleeeeease?"

Cheeslo folded his arms. He appeared to consider the offer, then smiled. "Make-cheesay."

No exceptions. Luke knew that all too well. It was like, the rule in Jabba's palace. One that Jabba broke a lot- being a hutt and all- but Cheeslo was pretty straight. Luke supposed that kissing up and following rules was how Cheeslo got promoted from slave to overseer. No bribe-taking. It also helped that other slaves usually had nothing to barter with.

"Coma." Cheeslo commanded.

Luke sighed and obeyed reluctantly. He knew the servo-motor was here, after all. He'd just come back for it in a few days after Cheeslo forgot. Cheeslo pushed Luke in front of him roughly and began marching him back to the slaves' quarters.

"Chu wuta mi Halapu nunta neehto." Cheeslo commented. "Sinso uba offero."

"_Hiiii?_" Luke exclaimed. That was not the deal! Cheeslo couldn't just make Luke repair his holoset for nothing in return!

Cheeslo grinned down at the boy nastily. Oh yes he could.

"Dopa meekie, dopa maskey…" Luke muttered, cursing. "Gaggalak koochoo kung…" Cheeslo grabbed Luke's ear and _twisted_. Luke cried out. "Ow! Ow! Ow!"

* * *

><p>Cheeslo flung Luke into his dormitory when they arrived at the slaves' section of the palace. Luke glared sullenly at the other slaves he bunked with. The sun was just rising outside, so he wondered who had ratted him out. Probably Fixer, Luke thought, ignoring the boy pointedly as he walked to the end of the line up. He and Fixer were two of about five human slaves in the Palace, all kids. There were a couple of twi'leks in his room as well, along with a Khommite and a Gram who hogged the bunk by the door.<p>

_Jabba's children._ A cross-section of the galaxy. There were three things the others had in common. They were slaves, they were bigger, and they said Luke was crazy_. Well I don't want to talk to them anyway._ Luke thought furiously. _I don't care what they think._

"Don-ta maro chu. Jabba no meesa meesa." Cheeslo was saying to the group. Luke straightened to attention when Cheelso gave him the evil eye. "Menta t'muda da cleena. Pe chsusa ne musa. Isa rankidoro poodoo."

His usual morning pep talk. Jabba had a big party last night. Guests are still asleep. Clean quietly. Do your work or we'll feed you to the rancor. Cheeslo slapped rags in their waiting hands. Silent meant no sonic cleaners, and Luke inwardly groaned as Cheeslo handed Fixer a bottle of the chemical solvent that was cheaper than water.

Fixer took the bottle with pride. It was a mark of favor. The fluid burnt human skin horribly. If Fixer was in charge of pouring, he wasn't going to be the one getting his hands scalded. Now Luke _knew_ who ratted on him for sure. Fixer shot Luke a quick smirk.

Cheeslo dismissed them. He moved on to the next room over. Luke was first out the door, but hesitated when Cheeslo's back was turned and inserted himself between Fixer and a busty blue Twi'lek. Loonta probably wouldn't be one of Jabba's children much longer, Luke reflected.

"_One day Fixer_." Luke promised in Huttese as they marched down the corridor. "_One day!_"

Fixer just yawned. "One day what _Luke-a_?" He drawled in Basic. "Your daddy's gonna come swooping down and free ya? Ya had another dream again?"

Luke flushed. This was why they thought he was crazy. _"Dreams have nothing to do with it. And my dad is going to come. Maybe _today."

Fixer just grinned. "Huh? What was that? Speak up, _Luka_. I don't understand Huttese. Why don't you try _Basic_?"

"Maaii…dada…weel-cumn." Luke ground out in halting Basic. "Aii deeda…hava-nodder…dreeme. Lasta nita!"

"I have no idea what that means." Fixer said. "Never mind. Bad idea."

"_I said my dad WILL come_." Luke said, reverting to Huttese. "_I did have another dream last night. He was here, flying a white ship with flapping wings and…_" Luke let his voice trail off. Actually, last night's dream had been kind of weird. Spice freighters didn't have folding wings.

"Forget it, Fixer." Said another boy, a human. "He's been here since he was what, two? No wonder he can't speak a real language."

Luke scowled. He could speak Ryl, Toyodarian, Jawa, Bothan, Trandoshan. The list went on. He thought he even knew some Ghorfa from listening to Tuskens crying in the hills. Like Basic was any better than all that! Jabba didn't even allow it to be spoken in his palace. He couldn't help that his accent was bad.

"Not like it matters." Fixer said. "It's all lunatic rambling."

"_I'm going to tell Cheeslo that you're all speaking Basic again." Luke taunted. "Then we'll see who's carrying the cleaning fluid_!"

"Cheeslo doesn't care." Fixer said absently. "But you'll keep your mouth shut anyway, worm." The boy looked over his shoulder and glared down at Luke. Luke looked up and then quickly glanced away. Fixer was a full head taller than Luke and twice as wide. Luke brought a hand to his temple subconsciously. There was a scar just below the hairline, from when Fixer struck him so hard the skin had split. No one knew why he'd woken up from that blow. They'd thought he was dead. Bib Fortuna, the majordormo, had almost taken Fixer's finger for it.

"_When my dad comes…_" Luke whispered.

* * *

><p>CT-81-4751 bumped and jostled along with the rest of the legion in the landing transport. His armor knocked against his brothers' and he turned to stare at CT-48-02. CT-48-02 met his look with an equally level, equally blank look on his expressionless helmet.<p>

CT-81-4751 seemed to understand anyway. He turned back ahead. Yep, they both hated the heat. He felt most sorry for his commander.

* * *

><p>"Mi nona xp-ona, Luka." Cheeslo said in a soft sing-song voice. <em>A special job, just for you. <em>He was grinning.

Luke got a really bad feeling that had nothing to do with dreams or supernatural premonitions.

"Uhh…choy, Maseda Cheeslo?" Luke asked. He put down his rag and flexed his stiff, stinging fingers.

"_I notice you don't take the rancor threat very seriously anymore_." Cheeslo said in Huttese. "_Getting too old to be scared of the rancor_?"

"_No master Cheeslo_." Luke replied warily.

Cheeslo looked disappointed. "_Oh. That's too bad_." He said. _"Because Malakili has been asking for someone to clean his cage for ages, and we need someone small enough that the rancor might mistake it for a rat and ignore it."_

Luke's jaw dropped. Cheeslo laughed.

"_You are such good sport, Luka_!" The Rodian overseer said. "_You don't have to clean the rancor's cage."_

Luke visibly exhaled in relief.

"_Just the pit_." Cheeslo said maliciously.

Luke froze. He looked up at the Rodian wildly.

"_Chop-chop little Luka_." Cheeslo beckoned, savoring every moment. Luke stood and followed Cheeslo. They twisted through the corridors until all too soon Luke found himself at the bottom of a set of stairs, in front of a narrow metal gate.

"_I'll take that_." Cheeslo said, picking Luke's rag out of his balled-up fist. Luke thought he almost missed the chemical burning. "_Right now you just have to pick up the skulls and make a tidy pile on the side. The rancor keeps tripping. But I'm sure Malakii wouldn't mind if someone volunteered to scrape the rust from the gate of his cage too._"

"Nobata!" Luke denied vehemently. "_No way!"_

"_You sure_?" Cheeslo appraised the boy. "_We'll lift it up just a crack so you can get at the underside. It always gets stuck, you know? Then we can see how fast your thieving hands are. Little Luka versus the rancor's claws."_

Luke swallowed. Cheeslo unlocked the gate and held it open. They stared at each other for a tense moment, before Luke realized he was supposed to go through alone. Cheeslo wasn't stepping in there. Gathering himself, Luke raised his head and walked into the rancor pit. The rancor wasn't even in there right now! There was nothing to be scared of. No rancor, no fear.

The rancor was just…right over there…behind that rusted steel blast door…

Luke snapped his heels smartly and turned around to face Cheeslo. To his shock, the gate was shut.

"Hiii!" Luke hissed, running to the gate in sudden panic. "Cheeslo!"

"_Be careful of the blood_." Cheeslo said through the bars. _"Some of those scraps are a little…fresh_." The lock on the gate engaged with an ominous click.

Luke looked down at his bare hands. He looked back up to see Cheeslo walking away, waving his chemical-laden rag with a jaunty laugh.

Luke clenched his fists in rage. "Cheeslo!"

"_Don't shout, _bukee." Cheeslo called_."I think the rancor is sleeping. You wouldn't want to wake it up, would you_?"

Luke nervously glanced at the rancor's door. He backed away from the bars of the gate. His only way out was locked. His only way out!

_No._ Luke sighed. _The only way out is to finish my work. Although that's never really a way out, because there's always more work for a slave._ He turned away from safety and shuffled closer to center of the pit.

How many times had he heard the screams of _entertainment_ echo through the palace? With tentative, morbid curiosity, Luke stepped out into the watery light filtering from the throne room above. He'd never actually seen the rancor in action. Jabba's children generally weren't allowed at any of the crime lord's parties, unless the Hutt needed more servants. Luke was naturally not selected for the honor. He was only fit to clean up the aftermath.

Skeletons and old bones were propped randomly around the edge of the arena. Flesh was clinging to some of them, and the carnage was obviously not all from last night. Luke wrinkled his nose. To delay, he looked up at the grate that substituted for a ceiling. He pictured Jabba's face up there, leering. Fortuna and Cheeslo were easy to imagine as well. Salacious Crumb was laughing.

Now he knew what his last sight in life was likely to be.

Luke tried to still the slight shaking in his hands. It was true, he had been with Jabba for a long time. Maybe since he was born. It was getting harder to remember. He wasn't sure how old he was or what was his birthday. How he'd gotten here. All he really had was his name and his dreams.

"_Your father was a fantastic pilot, Luke." Said a Sad Man with a red beard. "He was a hero."_

"_His father was a smuggler. A navigator on a spice freighter." Said Uncle. _

"_You're going to tell him that?" Questioned the Sad Man. _

"_Yes. Now you've seen the boy, Kenobi. He's fine. Get out."_

"_Certainly. Thank you, Beru."_

_Sad man was gone._

"_He won't forget, Owen. He will want the stars. He's a Skywalker."_

Skywalker. Luke clung to that like a lifeline when the other kids teased him or tried to convince him that his parents _sold _him away. It wasn't true! Luke bet he was probably kidnapped, like most everyone else.

Luke remembered how he used to make up the stories when he was littler. Space pirates stole him from his cradle and killed his mother, who died defending his life. Or Luke got lost on Nar Shadda and slavers took him in. The fantasies all ended the same way. His father was tracking him, wanting him, always searching. He was alive- not like Fixer's folks- and he was hero who was going to swoop down and save him.

_And he's_ _going to kill everyone at Jabba's who is cruel and hateful_. Luke reminded himself. He was going to take Luke away to the stars. Luke was going to be free. Luke would become a pilot, and they would travel together across space, saving the galaxy, father and son.

_Cheeslo will be dead. And Fixer will be sorry._

Swallowing hard, Luke focused back on the task at hand. Pile up bones. Simple enough. He wondered if any of them belonged to someone he'd known.

_Okay, this looks like a Gamorrean._ Luke thought, picking up a jaw fragment with a tusk. It was clean, so it was probably older. _Who got sucked into the pit last month by accident? Grissom? No, I think I saw him this morning. Gurdumn! That was his name._

"_Gurdumn_." Luke said solemnly. "_I remember you_." Reverently, he walked to the side of the pit and placed the jaw in clean sand. Luke walked back to the center.

"_A foot_." He murmured. "_Humanoid_." Luke took a guess from the scrap of shimmering cloth caught around it that it belonged to a dancing girl. Fren? Branda? Ecklu? Luke hadn't seen any of them lately. He wasn't sure which of the three had been fed to the rancor and which had just been transferred to Jabba's home on Nal Hutta.

Branda, he decided. Branda's color was green. "_Branda, I remember you_." As he set the bones down he hoped it really was Branda, and he shouldn't have just payed tribute to Ecklu.

The next pieces were harder. They were just some bones and Luke wasn't sure where they belonged. With a sigh, Luke just gathered them all and added them to the pile. He found Gurdumn's horn on the other side of the arena but the stack was too tall by now to get to the first jaw bone. He set it on top with a silent apology.

Luke looked around the chamber. No more clean bones. He had been trying not to look, not to _think_ about the rotting corpses, because there were about four of them…maybe five, because he was definitely counting an extra dug's leg that had no body for it…but…

Four corpses. Two rotted, two fresh.

Luke took a deep, shaky breath. Time for the heavy lifting.

_KER-CLANG!_ Something hard and metal echoed through the palace. Luke froze, looking up. Sand sifted from the grate overhead and fell in Luke's eyes. Luke rubbed it away, cursing.

Silence. Luke waited a moment more, but nothing came. Luke wondered what had happened. Did a sandcrawler hit the front gate? Something explode? Probably nothing. The most exciting thing that happened at Jabba's was that people got fed to the scarlacc.

_Not going to be me._ Luke thought. Cautiously, he approached the cleanest looking corpse. It was some kind of insectoid, with hard, iridescent black armor. The rancor had evidently found it inedible. Luke thought the shell was pretty. For, you know, being crushed and oozing green blood.

Luke tried to grab an antenna and pull. The body was small, but really heavy. Luke wasn't strong enough. With disgust, Luke reached down to grab the whole head and threw his weight into it. The body slid a few inches.

Luke let go, breathing heavy. He slumped to the floor. Kreth! The one good thing about the rancor's pit was that it was cool. The day was wearing on and it was probably sweltering outside already.

_KLANG CLANG! Krik krik rumble CLANG!_ Luke jumped up. What was going on? That wasn't just an accident. Something was happening.

"Achuta?" The boy called out. "Ach'ta hii? Choy ap-xmese?"

More rumbles. Luke thought he heard a distant shout. Luke called again. "Cheeslo!"

Alarms went off all over palace. "BEDASA!" Luke heard a cry echo. "Imperiolo su dasaa!" Another voice cried. "Me nu ap-xchisu!" A third voice. "Jee kocho vo blastoh! E huusu _guards_!"

_Imperials?_ Luke thought. _Impossible. That's just not…_ More shouts echoed and Luke definitely heard a blaster.

"Mi kreespa!" Luke exclaimed. "Cheeslo! _Cheeslo!_!" Where was Cheeslo? Stormtroopers were raiding the palace. They needed to evacuate. Luke needed to get out of the pit. He ran to the gated exit and started rattling the bars for all they were worth.

"Cheeslo! Cheeslo! Cheeslo! Cheeslo!" He called. "Benake dukee Cheeslo!" Blaster fire rang overhead and Luke heard screams. He couldn't get his mind around it. Why were the Imperials attacking? Didn't Jabba pay off the planetary governor in Mos Eisley? What went wrong? The Empire never cared about Jabba. They hardly controlled Tatooine, what was there to want here?

"Cheeslo! Malakii! Grunta! _Fixer!_" Nobody answered Luke's calls. Meanwhile the sound of battle got louder. Luke rushed back to the center of the pit. Blaster fire flashed and Luke saw the boot of a gamorrean guard step on the grate. The battle had reached the throne room.

"Ach'ta! Ach'ta!" Luke screamed up at the grate. "_Hey! Help me!"_

"Look." Someone said basic. The voice was tinny. Luke whirled to the gate to see two stormtroopers standing on the staircase, blasters leveled. "It's a kid."

"Uba nero m'chasa!" Luke shouted defiantly. _You'll never take me alive._ He darted around the corner and curled behind a pile of bones, out of range. Inwardly he was shaking badly. How was he going to get out of here? He didn't _really_ want to die!

"Captain." Luke heard one of the troopers comm. "We've got another one down here. Locked in some kind of cage. I see bodies, I'm not sure what this is." There was a pause. "Yeah, I'll try. Hey kid!"

Luke didn't answer.

"Hey kid! Come out. We're on stun. We're here to free you."

Like Luke was going to buy that. "Kee hasa do blastoh fi!" He demanded from behind his pile of bones. _Put down your weapons first_. Imperiolos were not to be trusted and they never freed slaves. He wasn't going to step out there with blasters trained on him, "stun" or not.

"Hey kid! Come out!"

"_No!_" Luke shouted in Huttese.

"I don't think he speaks Basic."

"Oh man. Why is Lord Vader doing this?"

"Shut up. Let's just get this gate open. Hey kid! You hold tight there, alright? We'll get you out real quick, then take you out of the palace. You're going to be free. _F-r-e-e_. Understand?"

Luke peeked out from behind his pile of bones. One of the troopers had holstered his blaster and was working on the lock panel. The other was facing the opposite direction, guarding the first trooper's back.

More screams and flashes and sparks filtered overhead. There was another huge concussive blast, but Luke hardly heard it. He felt a numbing sense of disbelief come over him. _Are they telling the truth. Are they here to free me?_

Quietly, Luke got up. He slowly walked to the door, as if in one of his dreams. The stormtrooper glanced up, said something to his buddy, and went back to work. The buddy glanced over his shoulder and returned to standing guard.

Luke curled his fingers around the bars of the gate. _Stormtroopers are so tall,_ Luke thought. The soldier in gleaming white armor had to be twice his height. Luke wondered if maybe…maybe his dad was under there. That was crazy. He barked a harsh laugh.

"What?" The trooper said curiously, helmet shifting slightly towards him.

Luke shook his head. This stormtrooper wouldn't understand. All his dreams and fantasies, his absurd faith in _destiny_…and he was getting freed by an Imperiolo. Oh well, he'd told Fixer that _someone_ would free them all some day.

"_The lock has a manual override_." Luke instructed the trooper in huttese. "_Cut the red wire and splice it to the black one. It'll open_."

"What's he saying?" The trooper standing guard asked.

"I have no idea. Don't distract me kid, I'm trying to get you out. Out."

"Ah-ooht." Luke parroted, trying Basic. "Aii no. Rhed wherr. Blackeh wherr." Luke pointed at the box. He made a gesture like two wires bumping together.

"I think we need a protocol droid." Said idiot one at the lock.

"What language _is_ that?" Said idiot two.

Luke banged his head against the cool bars. _Great_. Cheeslo had a catchy maxim for this. He guessed it was true. It went something like: Imperiolo troopa-stoopa. "_Imperial troops are stupid. Can't speak Huttese. Can't recognize Basic. I'm finally free and they can't figure out the karking lock_." Luke mumbled.

Three giant explosions shook the throne room and sand poured into the pit from above. Luke looked up. He heard a faint squeal and turned around just to catch a gammorean guard tumble into the pit through the trap chute. The pig creature flopped over and Luke saw a giant smoking hole in his chest where a blaster got him in the heart.

_They lied!_ Luke thought. _Those weapons are not set for stun!_ His eyes widened in alarm. _Oh kark._

At the end of the pit, a giant rusted blast door rumbled. Luke heard a muffled snarl. Inexorably, the gate began to lift up on it's automatic cycle.

"_You fools!_" Luke screamed at the troopers! "_Red wire to black wire! Hurry, hurry!_"

"Stop shouting kid!" The trooper yelled back.

"_No!_" Luke pressed himself against the bars. He flung an arm at the opening gate. _"The rancor! Come on_! Rhed wherr-blackeh wherr, RHED wherr-BLACKEH wherr!"

"Krething sithspawn, shut it!"

The trooper on guard looked back again. Luke could feel his sudden alarm even through the expressionless mask. "Wait, 51, what is that?"

"Holy _shit_…"

Luke turned around. The gate was open. The rancor ambled out into the dim light. It shuffled to the dead gammorean, sniffed it, then turned its beady eyes on Luke. There was another explosion somewhere in the palace and the rancor roared.

_Oh fierfek_. Luke thought. _Mi rankidoro e'nachu_.

"Get down kid!" Shouted the trooper with the blaster.

Luke instantly sunk to the ground. Three shots snapped overhead, sizzling his hair. One grazed the rancor by the eye and the other two shattered harmlessly on the wall behind it. Luke felt the creature's rage wash over him. It was injured and it was mad!

"Kreth!" Cursed the stormtrooper.

_Yeah, Kreth! _Luke thought_.  
><em>

The rancor launched itself at the nook hiding the gate, scraping a giant claw at Luke. Luke screamed, trying to wriggle further back. The trooper at the lock let loose a string of obscenities and the guard shuffled, searching for better aim through the bars of the gate. His blasts just burned the skin on the giant arm grasping around the cave.

"_Stop it, stop it!"_ Luke cried, "_You're making it worse!"_

"Kriff it!" Shouted the stormtrooper at the lock. There was a shower of sparks. "Ah!"

Luke felt a tingle of warning run from the base of his neck down his spine. Instinctively, he rolled away just as a blast door came down over the gate, right where he'd been huddled. A piece of his slave's frock got stuck under the door and tore. Luke didn't notice, because at that moment the rancor's claw came down. Luke dashed underneath it, past the rancor, sprinting to the other side of the pit.

_Kark, kark, karking, kreth_! "E chu ta!" Luke screamed with his remaining breath. "Echuta uba Imperiolo!"

"Kid! Kid!" Answered the troopers behind the blast door, banging on the metal. Luke heard a blaster fire and more banging.

_I'm dead. _Luke told himself. The rancor seemed to realize that Luke wasn't at the gate any more. It swung around, glaring. Luke's thoughts skittered out of control. _I was so close to being free, and now I'm dead! This wouldn't have happened if it were really my father who came to free me. Why wasn't it my father? _He felt absurdly bitter. _Where is my father?_

The rancor advanced. Luke's hand closed on a giant bone that was almost as big as he was. As the beast lunged down, jaw gaping, Luke summoned everything he had and _thrust the bone_ between the rancor's teeth. It wedged firmly. The rancor snarled in frustration, unable to crack it.

Luke pulled his tiny fist from the maw. He scrambled beneath the rancor's legs, running again to another pile of bones. He climbed on top of it, reaching for the ceiling grate. The wall was too smooth and he was too short. It was no way out, anyway. Luke sobbed, desperate and terrified. _Father!_

* * *

><p><em>Father!…<em> The cry echoed across Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith's, mental landscape. Vader froze.

"My lord, sectors five and six are clear," reported a Stormtrooper at Vader's side. "We're still facing heavy resistance in sectors seven to nine. We should, however, have the palace in an hour."

"Excellent work, captain." Vader rumbled. He turned his attention back to the pale twi'lek trembling and grasping at Vader's hand on his throat. "Do you hear that, Fortuna? You are done. Where is Jabba?"

"Muta…kuchita…" Fortuna gasped.

"No." Vader said with deceptively cold patience. "Where is Jabba Desilijic Tiure?" He raised Fortuna a little higher. The majordomo's legs kicked pitifully at empty air.

"In the…the garage…" Fortuna sputtered in Basic. "Speeder."

"Aha." Vader said. "Thank you, majordomo." He snapped the twi'lek's neck and let the body slump to the floor. "Send a second squad to sector nine." Vader ordered. "Jabba is a fool if he thinks he can escape on speeder. The compound is surrounded. Nevertheless I want no mistakes."

"Yes sir." The captain tapped his helmet and issued a command.

Vader stood in the hallway and breathed. Something was wrong. What had that been? It was weak, but he almost thought he'd felt a slight tremor in the Force.

"Captain, where is fighting heaviest?"

The captain listened to reports. "Sector seven, my lord. The throne room. They've pushed us out and are holding our troops off with concussion grenades in the hallway. We have three wounded, no casualties yet."

"Let them know I'm on my way." Lord Vader turned swiftly and strode down the corridor. "How is the recovery operation?"

"Well my lord." The captain said, following. "We have at least twenty slaves in custody. Most have surrendered, although some are fighting. There are…several children, very young."

Vader nodded. He had already known, but the confirmation fed his rage. Children, enslaved, like he had once been himself. He pulled the Dark Side around his mind like a cloak. That lifetime was long ago. Now he had power, influence. It took too long under the complacent Jedi and nine years under Palpatine, but Darth Vader was making good on Anakin's old promise.

_I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new Empire._ Vader recited. He knew the words by rote. Obi-Wan was long dead, but Vader hoped his former master was watching.

The throne room was indeed a mess when he arrived. Vader pursed his lips distastefully. His troopers were huddled around a corner, several attending to a clone who had his helmet off and looked concussed.

"Cover me." Vader said, waving them away from the fallen man. He would be fine. The troopers obeyed and rallied behind Vader. The Sith Lord ignited his red lightsaber with a snap-hiss and advanced purposefully towards the throne room.

"Echutaa! Meeyasa puchi!" Someone cried behind the heavily dented blast door. A compartment opened and an arm thermal detonator shot out, screeching the end of it's countdown.

Vader lifted a hand. The detonator changed course in mid-air, flying back to the door. It hit the metal, bounced, and exploded with a ground-shaking blast. The door flew back into the throne room in a spray of debris and smoke while Vader shielded his men.

The shock lasted only a moment. Scattered blaster bolts streamed into the hallway. Vader deflected them with another flick of his gloved hand. In three swift strides he descended into the throne room, cleaving a rushing gammorean in half before it even had a chance to react.

"Kill them all." Vader commanded. His troops spilled past him to subdue the resistance. Vader walked out further onto the throne room floor. Something caught his attention over the screams and squeals of dying scum. He looked down to see something ambling in the shadows beneath the grate under his boots.

_I sense…_

"Sir!" The captain barked. "We have a report from 51 that—"

Vader plunged his lightsaber into the grate. Melted slag piled and curled as the red blade cut a hole.

* * *

><p>Luke couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't. He was so tired. The rancor roared, and Luke somehow gathered the strength to make another dash across the sandy pit. He ducked under a swiping claw and zagged in the other direction.<p>

He had tried to defend himself with the dead gammorean's axe once after failing to climb away, but it was too heavy and just got stuck in the rancor's forearm. Now Luke was covered in rancor blood and the floor was getting mucky, and the beast was just angrier than ever.

Running was his only option. Unfortunately, it looked like the rancor was going to last a lot longer than he was. Straining to breathe, Luke tripped on a corpse and tumbled end-over-end to crash into the bone pile he'd so laboriously gathered earlier. Lying there, Luke closed his eyes and cursed.

_I didn't even get to meet my father…_

_Get up Luke! He's coming._

Luke's eyes flew open. He raised his head off the ground.

_Ben?_ Luke hadn't heard that voice since…

Luke executed another somersaulting roll. The rancor's claws slammed down on the bone-pile, crushing it. Luke tried to stand, running, but faltered as his ankle gave out beneath him just before he reached the other wall. The young slave bit down a cry and scooted back against the wall as the rancor lumbered in advance.

_Ben! Father!_

Crash! Clatter! A piece of the ceiling grate fell to the floor of the pit. Something billowing and black dropped to the ground after it, between the rancor and Luke.

Luke shouted. He wasn't sure what he said, but his mind was filled with an inky, angry darkness. It boiled with red like the glowing blade that flashed and suddenly the rancor was missing most of an arm.

Luke's thoughts caught up with himself. The dark helmet shifted slightly. Luke registered the glint of light on pitch black eye pieces. _Darth Vader!_ He realized. _Is that really Darth Vader!_

The rancor roared, and Darth Vader turned back to battle. Another flash, and the rancor sported a gaping wound on its neck. The massive beast was too thick to behead in one blow. Luke couldn't believe it was still going. How could the rancor breathe? It reached for Vader with its remaining claw. Now it had no hands.

Luke was in dazed awe. This was amazing. Darth Vader was amazing. The figure in front of him was so big and so strong. Luke suddenly wished he was that powerful.

Darth Vader changed tactics. Swiftly, he went for the legs. It seemed the black warrior planned to take the creature apart piecemeal. The rancor screamed and stumbled, retreating back into its cave. It snapped futilely at the dark lord, and Luke held his breath as Vader landed another blow, taking out an eye and part of the upper jaw.

Luke winced at the blast of pain. It looked horrific. The poor rancor was flailing about with stubs for arms and half a face. Vader flashed at the legs again, and the creature crumpled to one knee in its cell. Vader flashed, and there was less of an arm. Flash! One leg!

The creature started to topple. From where he was lying, Luke seemed to recognize the danger before his savior did.

"Nobata!" Luke cried. _No!_ His eyes lit on a red button in the back of the rancor's cell. Luke found he was hefting a rock before his mind even considered what he was about to do. How could he hit that? He faltered.

Trust your instincts! Ben said.

Luke let the rock fly. It sailed straight as an arrow, striking the red button across the room. The door to the cell slammed down on the rancor's head. The rancor was pinned to the ground before it could fall on Lord Vader. It let out a sad sort of whimper, then died.

Luke was heaving heavily. He'd never felt so relieved. Darth Vader stood silently for a moment, studying the creature. He extinguished his lightsaber and turned to look at Luke. Luke smiled, a little weakly. Vader looked back at the rancor.

"Let's go." Vader said crisply. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt and strode towards the exit where a trooper was still banging against the blast door. Luke looked up, and saw white-helmeted stormtroopers peering down the hole Vader had cut in the metal grate. No Jabba or Cheeslo.

_Not my last sight after all,_ Luke thought wryly. He was too burned to laugh at his own joke.

Luke heaved himself to his feet and limped to where Darth Vader was standing. He skirted one of the alien bodies that were no longer his problem. Luke leaned against the rough-hewn wall and stared up at Lord Vader, who ignored him. Luke kept staring.

After a moment, the black mask tilted down to face him. Luke smiled again. The man in armor shifted, and Luke got the feeling that for the first time the man was really looking at him. Something in his posture was different.

"Mi Luka." Luke introduced.

Vader looked away. Luke opened his mouth to say something further, express debt, when the blast door slid open to reveal four harried-looking stormtroopers and a mangled gate cut from its hinges. Luke wondered which ones were the idiots that couldn't get him out in the first place.

A trooper with an orange pad on his shoulder stepped up. "My lord," he said. "We have Jabba detained outside sector nine. We are waiting on your commands."

"Very well." Vader said to the Captain tonelessly. "Assist him. His ankle appears to be fractured. Everyone follow me."

"Yes my lord." The Captain saluted. Vader strode away.

The Captain marched over to Luke and offered his arm. Luke took it and the arm of another trooper, and together they practically carried Luke along behind the sweeping form of the dark lord.

* * *

><p>Luke squinted a bit when they hit the light of outside. It was hot! Pushing 0900 hours! He'd raise an arm to shield from the sandstone glare, but he was still riding his stormtrooper escort. Somehow Lord Vader had gotten ahead, so when they exited the garage the black-armored man was standing in front of a canopied speeder and a full legion of stormtroopers.<p>

Floating on the barge alone, was Jabba the Hutt.

Luke's stormtrooper pals let him down. The captain advanced to Vader's side, where an aide in a grey uniform had also approached and handed him a data pad. The others joined the white soldiers standing at attention. Quietly, Luke limped after them and squeezed unobtrusively into their ranks. Fortunately they made shade for someone small like him.

Lord Vader looked at the data pad for a long moment. Luke wondered what was going on. Everyone was so still. Luke studied Jabba, who looked like he was still suffering from whatever spice he'd smoked last night. His great yellow eyes weren't focusing properly.

Luke mused if he was supposed to muster pity for his owner.

"Jabba Desilijic Tiure." Vader said finally. Luke snapped back to attention. "I have been asked to read your charges."

"_Charges._.." Jabba wheezed. "_I have lawyers on Coruscant who will…"_

The data pad sparked and crumpled in Vader's hand. He dropped it in the sand.

Luke looked around, wide-eyed. No one moved an inch.

"Your lawyers cannot save you now." Vader said. "Come now, Jabba. Did you really think you would get away alive? When you knew that _I_ was coming after you…" There was a dark, rough sound that Luke realized was a chuckle. It gave him chills. He shifted uncomfortably, biting down the pain that flared in his ankle.

"Unfortunately," Vader said, advancing. "There are new laws in place today. Imperial laws. And under them your crimes supersede a trial."

"Mi lorda tatooio." Jabba denied. "_Imperials cannot hope to rule this planet alone. You need the hutts. The emperor would not want me dead_."

Vader circled around behind the speeder, arms clasped behind his back. His cape swept the sand and his polished plastisteel armor gleamed in the sun. He brushed close to the fat slug lolling nervously on the vehicle. Something passed quietly between them.

The hutts eye's widened in alarm. "Ani…!" He exclaimed. He choked off.

Luke looked behind the hutt. Darth Vader had hand out, slowly clenching into a fist. His stance was wide, angry. Luke's master scrabbled at his neck with his withered little arms, eyes bulging and rolling back as his tongue flopped out with a trail of spittle.

Darth Vader released his shaking fist. Jabba slumped over, dead. "Say hello to Gardulla for me." Vader said with black mirth.

The desert was silent. _What just happened?_ Luke thought. _How did he do that? Was that magic?_ Luke was shaking, resisting the urge to cry out. He didn't because else seemed surprised or shocked.

"What about the others, sir?" The captain asked after a long moment passed.

"Execute those who resisted." Vader said, almost remotely. "Run a scan over the rest to identify tracking chips. Sort out the slaves and kill everyone else."

"Yes sir." The captain saluted.

_Kill everyone else?_ Luke was aghast. _You're just going to kill everyone else!_ Dimly, Luke recalled fantasizing about that a few times, but to hear the order given…!

Darth Vader looked directly over the speeder to where Luke was tucked in the ranks of stormtroopers. The boy jumped, thoughts scattered. _Woah!_

"Captain." Vader said. "Why is that _boy_ here?"

The captain searched, not knowing where Vader was looking. His eyes lit on Luke.

"Ah." The trooper said, sounding a little nervous. "You said to follow you. We, ah, didn't have time to—"

"Take him to Child Services." Vader dismissed, stalking off.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: So, I reeeeaaally wanted to do one of the challenges on the L/V Yahoo writers list. That place is practically dead, but so much good stuff came out of there that I had to pay tribute.

I'm posting this as I go, with an extremely vague outline sketched. I guess the Force will guide me.

The huttese is taken from Wookiepedia and/or made up. I tried my hardest to use canon phrases, but the language isn't like Elvish or Klingon where some obsessive nerds actually made grammar and vocabulary that you can speak and follow. I mostly focused on capturing the look and rythem, and making the gist clear without translations.

The first conversation is as follows:

_Ho! I don't believe it! What kind of idiot throws out a first class servo-motor?_

_Hands up!_

_Hands up Luke!_

_You're in trouble boy. I'm disappointed in you. You promised you wouldn't do this anymore._

_What's your price? I can fix the holoset in your room for good. Just let me keep this, pleeeeaaase?_

_No exceptions._

_You'll fix my holoset later tonight. Since you offered._

_What!_


End file.
